A Touch of Magick
by Erus
Summary: Outside, off in the distance, in lands both foreign and familiar, creatures of Magick paid homage to this glorious night as Magick rejoiced the coming of its son.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Finally revamped. Almost finished. Enjoy!

Note:

**--HP--** (page break with indication of elapsed time)

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**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

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**A Touch of Magick**

Erus

"It's a boy," the nurse announced softly as a distant reverberating toll marked the passing of midnight. Experienced hands gently swathed the wide-eyed babe in a bundle of clean sheets before walking carefully towards the semi-reclined figure on the hospital bed.

The anticipatory silence of the room was broken only by the soft rustle of cloth and the young mother's heavy breaths that slowed as she regained her strength. Wavy locks of sweat-dampened hair laid limply against her pale brow, but her startlingly green eyes glowed fiercely with pride and love as she reached out to hold her newborn son for the first time.

Her arms trembled for a moment, having spent nearly seven hours in the agony of a natural labor unaided by magic, but, as small, perfectly formed fingers wrapped trustingly around her thumb, her grip tightened and steadied.

Dark red hair swung forward in a curtain as held her son to her breast protectively, momentarily shielding both mother and son from the world.

She planted a light kiss onto his forehead before moving slowly, reluctantly, back.

Her husband's arm tightened around her shoulder as he sat beside her and, though she allowed her head to drop tiredly on his shoulder, her eyes remained fixed upon their baby.

"Perfect," she breathed out wondrously.

Large green eyes—her eyes—tinged only slightly with the pale blue of a newborn, blinked at her slowly. He made no noise and did not fuss, as most babies were wont to do, but she wasn't worried; she had been quiet as a child as well.

The dark-haired man beside her kissed her hair softly before brushing it back from her face to whisper words of love and adoration for both her and the child they brought into the world and she reveled in the security of his arms.

Thoughts of prophecies and the encroaching darkness were, for the moment, pushed aside, though they always loomed menacingly in the shadows of their minds.

The door clicked shut quietly after the nurse stepped silently out of the room, leaving the new family time to familiarize themselves with each other again after nine long months. She would come back later to perform the procedural diagnostic spells.

Unnoticed by anyone, a swirling host of faeries gathered around the newborn baby boy with emerald eyes and whispered excitedly amongst themselves.

Briefly, imperceptible to any whom had not the gift to see it, a golden glow outlined the slumbering infant before sinking gently beneath his skin and disappearing as if it had never been.

Outside, off in the distance, in lands both foreign and familiar, creatures of Magick paid homage to this glorious night as Magick rejoiced the coming of its son.

**--HP--**

Brightly lit candles in carved pumpkins flickered as a hooded form passed before them, blood red eyes intent on a cozy house visible to only he and his accomplices at the end of the street.

With a whispered word, the front door exploded inward and the dark figure swept inside. Loud voices could be heard through the open doorway.

An eerie green glow flashed once, then twice—

_Thump._

_Thump._

Magick could not save its son, but it could aid him—but at a price.

Golden light flared—

A shriek tore through the night—

And then there was silence, but for an infant's cries.

It started to rain, the sky pouring large, splattering drops, though none touched the ruins of the once proud home of a loving family. Thunder sounded in the distance and the wind wailed a mournful cry.

Three long years would pass before Magick found its child once more.

**--HP--**

In a cupboard under the stairs of a middle-class, suburban house, a small boy was curled up on a dingy mattress, pale cheeks tracked with tears.

The lonely child could not understand why the thin woman and the large man with whom he lived did not like him. What had he done wrong?

As per the directions given to him, he took careful care of all the green things in the house, swept the floor at the end of each day, exactly like she told him to, and fixed their tea just _so_, despite having great difficulty carrying the heavy watering can and having fallen down the stairs twice and burned his fingers several times more, unable to see above the stovetop.

But all his efforts were for naught. He tried so hard to please them, really, he did, but never once had they looked at him with anything more than cold indifference and scorn; never once had even a fraction of the warm emotion they exuded as they gazed adoringly at the round boy that pinched his arms and kicked at his cupboard door entered their eyes when they were directed at him. Other than the occasional curt addition of chores or the perfunctory demonstration of a new task, he was largely ignored and shunted to the periphery, always skirting the edges of their familial interaction.

At his tender age he understood clearly that he was not wanted, but he knew not why. He only knew that there was something missing that he desperately, with all his heart and soul, wanted for himself.

He wanted, with an intensity that almost hurt, what the girl in the pale blue dress and pigtails across the street holding the hand of a tall smiling man had.

He craved, with every fiber of his being, the emotion that shined in the eyes of the laughing woman as the young boy by her side with grass-stained pants pointed excitedly toward a fluttering butterfly.

But his prayers remained unanswered as he laid silently in the cupboard under the stairs. And, in his fitful slumber, he dreamt of red hair, strong, loving arms, and flashes of green light.

**--HP--**

A red-haired boy picked up a gold coin from the grass, bright blue eyes following a trail to the edge of a vibrant multihued arc. Small green-clothed men seemed to flit to and fro in excitement, and the boy noticed that there was more than just one rainbow in his backyard; there were more than he could count on both hands and they were _everywhere_.

And, more importantly, there were what seemed to be, literally, mounds of golden galleons lying around his family's backyard.

"Wicked," he breathed, eyes wide. He took a step forward, his pudgy hand clasped tightly around his coin.

"Come back in for supper, boys!"

He froze at the sound of his mother's voice, blinked, then, with a shrug, turned to go back inside. He could smell his mother's mouth-watering cooking from the yard.

Focused intently on the growling in his tummy, chubby fingers released their hold on their golden hostage and he raced back towards his awaiting family, a smile fixed upon his freckled face.

The coin disappeared before it touched the ground.

**--**

A brown-haired girl stopped in the middle of the street and looked down as a large shadow passed by her feet. Looking up, her light brown eyes widened as a large scaly creature soared by overhead, snorting out blue flames.

Her eyes immediately turned back towards the two adults by her side—

To find that they had already walked ahead.

Parents were strange, she decided then, as hers seemed to be totally oblivious to the enormous flying reptile above their heads.

She opened her mouth to tell them—

"Come along now, honey," her mother called.

She blinked, snapped her mouth shut in momentary bewilderment at her parent's obvious lack of observational ability, then, with a put upon sigh—parents were _strange_—ran to catch up with them, slipping between the two larger figures to place one small hand into her mother's comforting hold and the other into her father's protective grip. Taking a glance back, the dragon was gone.

Her father ruffled her hair and she smiled.

**--**

Emerald eyes darted up, catching movement—but all was still in the light of the mid-afternoon sun. Dismissing the incident, the young dark-haired child returned to his appointed task, carefully trimming the lush foliage that decorated the front yard in which he worked.

Detecting motion again from the corner of his eye, he looked over towards a bush and, this time, saw it sway as if in the wake of a light breeze—but there was nothing there. Brows furrowing, he turned around slowly, but found nothing out of place. Shaking himself, he returned to his weeding.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

He would have ignored the call as the words were normal enough and never directed to him, but the mellifluous voices echoed in his mind and seemed to resound with something in his very being. He spun around quickly, heart racing, but, again, there was no one there.

With a glance toward his aunt through the open living room window, he continued to work.

Less than a minute later, light tinkling laughter interrupted his labor and he nearly stumbled into the freesias in startled surprise.

He whipped his head around—and froze.

Dozens of shimmering lights of varying colors danced around him, clustered near his vicinity and spread out over the whole lawn. They glittered like dew drops nestled amongst the shrubbery and twinkled at him from the newly shorn blades of grass. A number bobbled with excitement near his body and several perched themselves directly upon his hair and shoulders, tickling his neck. With several tugging on his hair and clothes, they continued their chant.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

He looked at his aunt apprehensively, but she seemed unaware of the spectacle taking place on her front lawn.

The minute figures whispered excitedly as they flitted across his face, his hands, his chest. They touched him in joy with their feather-light caresses, their tiny luminescent forms glowing even brighter as they felt the power within him ripple and resonate with them.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

His eyes followed them as they leapt and twirled as they chanted their little song, around and around till he became dizzy. He took an unsteady step forward, verdant eyes wide with wonder, a small smile making its way to unfamiliar lips in the presence of their contagious gaiety.

"Boy! Come back inside!"

The shrill sound of his aunt calling for him broke him out of his daze and he turned automatically, looking towards the dining room windows through which he could spot her in the kitchen. For a moment, he stared at the house where hours of cleaning and tidying—_and loneliness and scorn_—awaited him. Then, shoulders slumping, he began to walk towards it, throwing one last glance towards the faeries only to find that they had disappeared.

**--HP--**

Verdant eyes stared with wonder at the towering castle beneath the starry night sky. The lake reflected the waxing moon on its mirror-like surface, disturbed only minutely by the wake of the moving vessels. A thick tentacle broke the surface of the water and waved lazily at the approaching first-years before slipping back beneath the dark depths of the lake. Several high voices rang out in startled shouts, but most of the children were struck dumb in their awe of the looming castle.

The thin, dark-haired child shivered with surprise pleasure as an unfamiliar feeling of belonging enveloped his being. Guarded eyes relaxed and tense muscles loosened as warmth flooded his being.

Unseen by either he, or any of his future schoolmates, a tiny, glittering figure landed on the boy's slim shoulders and settled itself next to his pale neck, tiny fingers grasping onto wild dark locks. Others like it followed and slipped into his pockets and hair, contenting themselves with watching over their beloved charge.

Though they could not interfere, they would watch carefully—and, when the time came, they would bring their Childe back where he was meant to be.

**--HP--**

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**A/N:** This little plot bunny was meant to be a one-shot, but one of the scenes is proving to be quite irksome to write, so _A Touch of Magick_ will be presented to you in two installments. For those who read this originally as a chaptered story, I apologize for my laziness and the previously shittily short chapters.

Please— I _implore_ you— notify me of any grammatical errors so that I may immediately correct such a blight upon my honor. Oh, the shame.

Hope you enjoyed. Till next time, my dear readers! Farewell!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: And I present to you, part the second and the end of _A Touch of Magick._

Note:

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**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

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**--HP--**

Ancient scrolls and yellowed texts laid scattered across a large oak desk. Slender ink-stained fingers rubbed at the temples of the young man seated in the straight-backed chair before moving forward to pinch the bridge of his nose. Wild dark hair emphasized the pallor of his pale skin and the dark rings beneath his clenched lids. But, despite his worn appearance, his eyes, jewel-like blazing emerald eyes, glittered fiercely when he opened them with an all-consuming anger and determination.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

They danced around him as they had always done, floating this way and that as they tumbled through the air, briefly alighting upon him before setting off again.

He ignored them, as he had done for the last several days—weeks—_months_.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

They laugh and sang and sang and laughed—

His grip on the quill stilled and tightened for a second, then began with renewed vigor.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come pl—_

"Fuck _off_!" he exploded, shooting out of his chair. "I don't have time for this," he snarled, hands clutching his messy raven hair as he paced restlessly across the study, muscles twitching with nervous energy.

He couldn't concentrate with their constant twittering and play. Their presence had always invoked a sense of calm and belonging within him, but during the last week, they had only served to irritate his already fraying temper. And thoughts of _happiness_ were not what he needed right now.

He clenched his fists, relishing the pain and the anger that came with it. This pain was only a minuscule fraction of what his friends had suffered through before they were slaughtered like cattle. Red flashed across his vision and his anger soared, searing through his veins and leaving only wrath and a lust for blood and vengeance in its wake.

_Yes_, he smiled, though there was nothing happy in it. _This_ was what he needed. Anger kept him going and he would have stopped long ago without it.

He carelessly shook the blood off his hands, mindless of the glittering droplets as they soaked into the plush carpet. The faeries were gone, he noted as he stopped his pacing. Pushing back a slight pang of remorse for his explosion, he returned his refocused attention to this study of the dusty old tome before him.

**--HP--**

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

The lights continued to swirl and spin to the soft melody that he knew only he could hear and he could feel himself relaxing, the tension slowly releasing from his tired and sore body as they beckoned him with their familiar song.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

Their call was as potent as ever, and he took an involuntary step forward.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

They repeated as one in thousands of tiny voices. But, this time, another line was added to their song:

_Forget._

Forget, he thought. Forget the blood, the tears, the screams. His legs seemed to move of their own accord and took another step forward.

Forget the corpses, the scars, and the brittle, fearful smiles.

He moved, then paused mid-step.

Forget the good memories as well as the bad. A wiry black dog with grey-blue eyes giving him a sloppy kiss. A brown-haired witch scolding him with a smile edging across her lips. A weary man in frayed robes, amber eyes patient as he explained the correct wand-movements for the fifth time. A loud red-head, determination glinting in blue eyes as they soared in red and gold… Wire-rimmed glasses and dark hair pulled back into a bun… Twinkling blue eyes…

…and a long list of others. Faces flashed before his eyes and he tore his gaze away from the dancing lights, a wrenching pain twisting in his wildly beating heart. He backed up blindly and sat heavily onto the leather armchair, elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between gripping hands.

No. He would not forget. He _could_ not forget. For their sake, he would remember and, when the time came, fight to give others what he had lost. What his friends had lost. It was not time, yet, for him to rest.

No matter how much he wished to join those lost and escape into a world without war and pain, he knew he wouldn't accept their offer until the monster who killed his loved ones and destroyed his world was dead.

After a long while, when he finally looked up, having regained his composure, they were gone.

**--HP--**

The battlefield was torn asunder; wreckage and ruin were scattered as far as the eye could see. The great slabs of stone that had stood for millennia lay broken across the singed grass. The horizon line was unbroken in the distance, the small forest at the edge of the field having been flattened in the course of the grueling duel between Light and Dark.

There had only been two combatants on this field, bound by an ancient magick to fight until one contender breathed his last as the rest of the world trembled at the display of power they felt even as they huddled behind the safety of their wards and homes. Thus, there were, at the moment, no casualties other than a pile of smoldering ash beside a yew wand. And, as a light breeze carrying the scent of the ocean brushed past, even that little evidence disappeared.

Slowly, then with increasing speed, as if heralded by the renewing breeze, bright, colorful lights blinked into existence across the desolate field, small voices beginning a familiar chant. In hoards, they glittered around a bloodied figure on the ground, alighting in his tangled hair and dirtied clothes, giggling as they settled upon his cheeks and long lashes.

"Are you here to take me?" the dark haired young man asked hoarsely. Wonder colored his gasping voice.

A bloody hand reached up to touch one of the multitude of faeries that hovered above his chest, but fell back limply onto the blood-stained ground. He coughed, heaving, hacking coughs that flecked red across his lips and chin, but his eyes and ears remained, unwavering, on the dancing lights and joyous voices.

_Come sing with us,_

_Come dance with us,_

_Come play!_

He smiled at long last.

**--**

The light tenor of a young child's laughter sounded across the battlefield and, as the dancing lights flickered, then vanished, so, too, did any evidence of the fierce battle that had raged in that sacred field.

And, so, finally, did the Childe of Magick return home.

**The End**

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**A/N**: Hey all. It was a blast writing this. Hope you enjoyed. (Finished, finally. Woohoo!)


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